


Reflection, or a Prelude to Dinner

by BlueAlmond



Series: Jason's teacher [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bruce is a good father, Bruce may not be Batman but he's still paranoid, Fluff, Introspection, M/M, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 02:06:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19781035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueAlmond/pseuds/BlueAlmond
Summary: Maybe he was sabotaging himself, asking out the one person that had offered a solution to his problem with Jason. He normally wasn’t so impulsive. Why else would he do such a thing?Or: before dinner with Mr. Kent, Bruce worries.





	Reflection, or a Prelude to Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> You actually don't need to read the first part to understand it, I think, but considering it's pretty short and this is happening just a few hours after it, I recommend you do.

Parenting is always a challenge. One can get all the help in the world, and it’ll still be difficult. After all, a human being with a developing moral compass is dependent on you. It’s tough. And you don’t get a break from parenting. Everything you do ever since taking up the responsibility will definitely have consequences.

As if Bruce hadn’t been paranoid before that.

He could never regret it, though. Children may make life a thousand times more complicated, but they also make it more bearable. They force you to keep moving even when you don’t want to, and they’re a constant beacon of happiness. If he ever could turn back time, Bruce didn’t think he would change anything about the three boys in his life. They came to stay and that was more than alright. He had the means, if not the time, and normally he was able to make up for it. He knew he worked a lot, but he was used to run on very little sleep and that came in handy. So, he reserved most of the afternoon for them, and when something exceptional happened, Alfred was always there to cover for him.

More than once, Bruce had concluded Alfred ought to be an angel his parents sent him. He’d had no obligation towards Bruce and yet he raised him as his own, all the while keeping up the pretense that he was simply doing his job, as if Bruce could ever fire him. Hell, Alfred wouldn’t even take a raise, no matter how much Bruce insisted. And he insisted a lot. Alfred was indispensable in his life, moreover now that he was a widower. Not that his wife had been of much help when it came to the kids—but he didn’t like to think about that. All he had of her were memories, and he liked to focus on the good ones. He liked to focus on making more of those while he could, too. Because at the end of the day, good memories were one of the most valuable things a person could collect. And Bruce liked to collect valuable things— _like_ _children_ , as Alfred had very eloquently said on one occasion. Still, even though the children surpassed the adults in number at his home, he thought they were doing alright. More than alright, really. But then Alfred was hit by a car on a supermarket’s parking lot, and his entire routine came crushing down.

He’d always known Alfred was indispensable. He was also the man that raised him. The sole idea of ever losing him hurt like hell, and Bruce knew loss very well. They were acquaintances, and he thought he was more equipped to face it than most people. Yet he didn’t know what he would’ve done if the accident had been bigger. He didn’t dare to imagine. Thankfully all he had was a twisted knee and a broken ankle, but that had meant around six weeks of recovery, with absolutely no permission to drive.

—After Bruce had said that once they made it home, Alfred had stared at him down with such authority that no one would have ever questioned who really held the most power in the house. However, Alfred was injured, and Bruce was an adult that could endure a couple of weeks with no cookies if that was the cost to make things easier for his old guardian.

But on top of the fear and worry after the accident, they had a big problem: Jason and Dick finished their classes around the same time, in different parts of town. That normally wasn’t a problem, because Alfred went for Dick while Bruce went for Jason, but without Alfred around, one of the kids would have to wait at least twenty minutes after class, and that without traffic. When they had explained the problem over dinner to the children, Dick had immediately said he could wait. He was the oldest, gentle and caring by nature, and he didn’t mind the wait. Bruce did though. Dick’s school finished earlier than Jason’s so he could go to ballet at a prestigious academy that didn’t have a playground nor a cafeteria where he could wait for Bruce, and the class that came right after his was of adults. Bruce wasn’t comfortable with him waiting alone there. He didn’t say it, though, but he must have made a face, because after less than twenty seconds of silence, Jason was arguing he should, since he would have more things to occupy his time at school than his brother. Maybe Bruce didn’t give him enough credit about how caring Jason could be. He didn’t show it as often as Dick did, but he certainly was just as kind.

That settled it, and Bruce did his best to make it to Jason’s school as fast as he could, but it wasn’t fast enough, and one of Jason’s teachers, Mr. Kent, had made sure to tell him. He had looked stern, maybe even angry, at the beginning of the meeting, but after Bruce explained the situation, his expression softened, and he offered himself to take Jason while Alfred was still in crutches, so he didn’t have to stay waiting at school.

He finally had a solution for his problem, but it seemed like he would do his best to ruin it too, by asking the teacher out on a date. As if he didn’t know that if the date went badly it had the potential to ruin said solution. Awkwardness they could manage, probably, but what if during the conversation they discovered they disagreed on something important, and suddenly Mr. Kent’s unnecessary proximity to his children became unwanted? Then again, maybe the date could be a good chance to examine that sort of thing. The trip from the school to the academy was enough for conversation, and even though Jason was exceptionally brilliant, he was only seven and he could be brainwashed.

He wouldn’t tell Alfred that was his reason for going out on a date with Jason’s teacher, of course, because he wouldn’t approve and may even suggest once again he went to therapy. Bruce didn’t like therapists. Alfred needed to stop suggesting that. Still, he knew Alfred would ask what had prompted him to do it, and he needed to find a good answer for it because he really had no idea.

Honestly, he didn’t know what had compelled him to do so. It had been highly inappropriate, for once, and he hadn’t asked anyone out since before he got married. He’d been a widower for nearly three years and had rebutted each and every attempt the people in his life made to try and get him to date again after one disastrous first date with a reporter that was just too intense for his lifestyle. He had decided that if he ever dared to date again, it would be with someone who not only felt ‘okay’ about him having children, but someone who was _happy_ about it. They weren’t just a part of his life his partner would have to deal with, they _were_ _his_ _life_ , and they would always come first.

Now that he really thought of it, it wasn’t so strange he’d decided to ask Mr. Kent out on the spot.

Mr. Kent was, by far, Jason’s favorite teacher, and he’d heard a lot about him already. He knew that the man was strict but kind, that he listened to everyone and that he was very patient, a trait Bruce hoped extended beyond the classroom.

Maybe he’d thought that he and Alfred were managing, and maybe the kids were all the company he needed to genuinely enjoy himself, but he could admit that he felt a little lonely, some nights—only some. Some adult conversation with someone that couldn’t ground him with no dessert could be nice, really, but he would never compromise the little time he had with his children, and he knew that he had a tendency of talking about them way too often. But maybe Mr. Kent wouldn’t care. Maybe Mr. Kent would even like that.

Maybe. But hopefully he would find out during dinner, right?

**Author's Note:**

> The date is coming soon, I promise.


End file.
